


by chance

by sakon



Category: Ayatsuri Sakon | Puppet Master Sakon
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28087974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakon/pseuds/sakon
Summary: Until another figure steals away into the trees, it seems alone. Sakon is content to stay silent and breathe with nature until:"When we don't mean to, we seem to meet a lot, don't we?"The bramble crunches under boots, and Zenkichi's voice rings low. He lets down his hair, crouches down in front of Sakon, and gives a welcoming smile. And when Sakon doesn't respond, he adds:"It's been a while, hasn't it?"At a gathering, Sakon and Zenkichi meet once more.
Relationships: Fujita Zenkichi/Tachibana Sakon
Comments: 3
Kudos: 1





	by chance

There's a haze in the crowd that lines his face perfectly, the color of pink melding into mellow gold forming a beautiful, saccharine sunset. And in the crowd, Zenkichi moves through— and Sakon can’t stop staring at Zenkichi; even with the twists of people fumbling past him, unswayed by his mother's insistence, the frightening aspects of socialization, and not even Shiho could pull his eyes away. 

By the years, his hair stretches further down his shoulders; and this year, it comes to his mid-back. The sun lights it blue, and it looks like the waters they skimmed. 

"We haven't spoke in a while." Zenkichi grins at him, hair caught in the wind. In the air, it's tense. Something's painting their interactions with shades of rose gold and pinks, and he's inexperienced with it. 

Sakon nods in agreement. Nothing is _entirely_ wrong about the facts, but he doesn't look into his eyes. Maybe they'll see deeper than Sakon intends. And so, he flees. 

The party doesn't die down; after all, it's not for celebration, it's for socialization — and the hustling people seem to bask in the chance to expand. With the overly affectionate touches lingering on his skin and the buzz of sake caught in his yukata, Sakon steals away from the estate — of who's, he forgets — and to the woods. 

Until another figure steals away into the trees, it seems alone. Sakon is content to stay silent and breathe with nature until:

"When we don't mean to, we seem to meet a lot, don't we?"

The bramble crunches under boots, and Zenkichi's voice rings low. He lets down his hair, crouches down in front of Sakon, and gives a welcoming smile. And when Sakon doesn't respond, he adds: 

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Zenkichi invites himself to sit beside Sakon, under some tall, branching tree that makes everything — their years, specifically — pale in color. 

And now that he's there again, Sakon can't help staring at him. His hair falls across his face unruly and waved from the ponytail, and he's missing both his hat and camera. There's a faint white mark burned into his neck, and Sakon stares for longer than he intends. He doesn't stop, either; he becomes aware of how nice it looks, then swallows. 

What happened in his absence? 

"It's been a while," Six going on seven, half a year and many more, and the conversation doesn't flow as well as it should on his part, "...it truly has been."

They sit there in silence, and Sakon tries to find something to say. 

When the silence finally gets unbearable, Zenkichi's smile grows a little wider. 

“How's everything been?"

Sakon shifts and squeezes in on himself, then answers. "It's been well, I suppose. How about you, Zenkichi-san?"

"Haha! Everything's been... mmm, pretty great, actually!" 

The scar on his neck says otherwise, but then again, Sakon isn't quite sure how he got another one. Through word of mouth, he's heard of him training to go overseas. Like father, like son; Zenkichi will probably set off to photograph wars at risk of his safety. The thought makes him melancholic and fearful. 

"Hasn't it been a little hectic as of recently?" Zenkichi asks, not expecting an answer. Then he says with confidence and strength that Sakon's familiar with, "You've changed."

"Have I?" Sakon asks and pulls at the tips of his hair, feeling a little freer without his hands wound around his body and with Zenkichi's voice taking the majority of the conversation. (Like the way their conversations seemed to go.)

"You're not with Ukon for starters." He leans over to brush a hand across his cheek as if it's nothing, then tucks a strand of hair behind a pale ear, "Your hair is longer, now." 

Sakon jolts from the soft tickle and the contact of warm, rough fingers against his skin. Zenkichi pulls back, then Sakon musters his own shy smile. 

"I've had to grow it. It's a more traditional look... a bit like yours." He answers. "But Ukon... he didn't feel like socializing like this. He says the parties are too 'fake'." 

"I'm not the only one who's changed, Zenkichi-san." Sakon starts, then stares at the scar again. He doesn't touch it, nor does he try, but Zenkichi bats the hair out of the way and leans forward. 

"You mean this?" A finger points to the scar, then pinches at the long strands of hair over his shoulders and down his back. "Or this?"

Sakon resists the urge to speak, feeling a stutter. It tightens inside of his chest, winds up, and he waits the seconds until he can finally talk.

"Not that— y-you seem more resilient!" And when Sakon imagines that sounds wrong, he tacks on, trying to sound casual and failing miserably, "T-tough! Cool!"

"Why thank you," Zenkichi winks, "but give yourself some credit. You've grown, and I'm not just talkin' height either." 

He pats Sakon's head. He's grown just about his maximum, inheriting his height from his mother instead of father, though both are plenty short. 

"Being the head fits you well," _And so does being a kugutsu mawashi,_ he leaves out because he knows the balancing act of both is tedious and time-consuming, and Sakon's been one for years, so he must know. "You're a good teacher, y'know." 

"I'm into crazier journalism now, and that's because of you, Sakon- _sensei._ " 

"You've taught me a lot, not just that." His voice sounds a bit serious, then relaxes as he leans into Sakon's shoulder.

"Zenkichi-san!" Sakon shouts, voice pitched awkwardly as only first experience can make someone. It's that and the nickname and so many things building up at once after not seeing him for seven months. 

Zenkichi yanks himself away, looking genuinely apologetic. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

Sakon fists his pockets and tries looking him in the eye, "I-I don't mind! It's not that! I was wondering... a-ah, why don't we talk?"

He's the company that Sakon misses from time to time; he's spent months wondering how he's doing with no means of immediately contacting him and no confidence to. Not that he doesn't want to, but--

The truth is: he could be hassling him. And life has its way of working things, and Zenkichi is a grown man... and Sakon is only just emerging into adulthood, being barely eighteen. His face is still round and soft, all like his mother's, so he doubts that'll change. Zenkichi is broadened and angular and somehow even taller, as if the man hasn't stopped growing despite being twenty-two or three. Sakon always notices it: the disparaging distance between them in both experiences and regarding all matters. He feels almost juvenile. 

Zenkichi stares back down at him, eyes opened, and lips parted a tad. His grin comes back at full force, if a little hesitant, until Sakon holds his gaze intensely. 

"I dunno," Zenkichi answers honestly, scratching the back of his neck, "I guess it'd be awkward if we'd been like this before. But now..."

It's a reason; even with the laws being lenient towards their age difference, Zenkichi's a man with morals and a hard code built into him. It's another one of those things that distinguish him as him and not another paparazzi wannabe, or so in Ukon's words. 

"I'd like to a bit more if you don't mind." 

"Y-yes!" Sakon nods enthusiastically, drawing a laugh from deep within Zenkichi's chest, deep and mature. 

"I have to do more networking at that party, but..." He sounds a bit regretful, "Sometime would be good, right?" 

Zenkichi rises and extends an opened hand to Sakon, who takes it and grows to full height alongside him. 

"It'll be wonderful when, Zenkichi-san." He answers, taking a moment to savor the warmth in his hand. 

"I'll catch you sometime soon," Zenkichi utters, a bit awkwardly. "Nighttime is good, right?"

With the warmth still lingering in his shoulders and hands, Sakon cheerfully says, "That'll be good. I'll hold you to it, Zenkichi-san."

And watching him leave with a rumble of a laugh and a wave, Sakon wonders if he should scramble to catch up. 

* * *

He doesn't think about the conversation all too much; with practice and preparations, there are pressing matters to attend. Or, in Zenkichi's words: there's bigger fish to fry. 

"Sakon!" A familiar voice calls, drawing him out of his reverie. It's distant with the wind and leaves falling, and he's pretty sure he sees a silhouette fall over the walls surrounding the estate. 

He's certain he's hallucinating until flowers are thrust to the space in front of his hands in the blink of an eye, and Zenkichi's staring up at him from the dirt, waiting for permission to rise up the steps. Midnight is hitting his face, dirt smeared across, and it's too dark for Zenkichi to be visiting, but like with everything, Zenkichi doesn't seem too concerned about the consequences or in general. Sakon supposes that's one of the many lovely things about him. 

"We seem to meet a lot, don't we?" Zenkichi repeats, but the flowers in his hands tell a different story. They're picked from a field a few kilometres over, and the fact is enough to make Sakon giggle. He'd feel anxiously shy if there were a reason to; with Zenkichi batting those feelings away, so there isn't much of a basis for the negatives. 

"Zenkichi.." Sakon trails off, holding the flowers in one hand, and descends, stopping at the spot where they're just the same height to stare him in the eyes, "I'm glad we do, huh?"


End file.
